Like as the waves make toward the pebbled shore,
So do our minutes hasten to their end;
Each changing place with that which goes before,In sequent toil all forwards do contend.
Nativity, once in the main of light,
Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crowned,
Crooked eclipses against his glory fight,
And time that gave doth now his gift confound.
Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth
And delves the parallels in beauty's brow,
Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth,
And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow:
And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand,
Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand.
To Kuo Mo-Jo
ReplyDeleteOn our small planet
a few house-flies bang on the walls.
They buzz, moan, moon,
and ants climb the locust tree
and brag about their vast dominion.
It is easy for a flea to say
it topples a huge tree.
In Changan leaves spill in the west wind,
the arrowhead groans in the air.
We had much to do and quickly.
The sky-earth spins
and time is short.
Ten thousand years is long
and so a morning and an evening count.
The four oceans boil
and the clouds fume with rain,
The five continents shake
in the wind of lightning.
We wash away insects
and are strong.
-Mao Zedong-